


Means to Believe

by Jivedsaws



Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: Abuse of italics, Brainwashing, Character Study, Drugged Sex, Extremely Dubious Consent, Loss of Identity, M/M, Manipulation, Mental Instability, Non-Consensual Drug Use, POV First Person, Permanent Injury, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Stockholm Syndrome, i say somewhat mute bc he does talk everynow and then, somewhat mute character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-24
Updated: 2019-10-22
Packaged: 2020-05-19 03:06:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19348252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jivedsaws/pseuds/Jivedsaws
Summary: "No one is coming to save you."No one.I can't even plead for God to save me, all in belief that he's on Joseph's side.





	1. You'll never see it but it kills you slowly

**Author's Note:**

> I just -clenches fists- had to write this. it was a feral urge in my bones. honestly not sure why i had to write it in first person but well it happened. all of this is just self indulgent and kind of,,, character studying all the same. trying to figure out Joseph Seed. also studying my Dep, i do have an actual name for him but lmao... u see that identity loss tag... that aint important.  
> This is all based off of just the small thought of what if Dutch didn't save you from the shoreline and you get got. Every Seed gets their own personal deputy! hell yeah! im in pain. based on how Joseph captivated my soul from the first time i played the game when he sang amazing grace during the helicopter scene.  
> ANOTHer note, this whole first chapter is kind of... all mostly just the opening scene except just sort of told in my boy's thoughts and views. Just ykno.. a twist around the end. not beta read bc my eyes are really dumb.

 

 

_God won’t let you take me,_ is what he says.

 

Maybe we should have listened to him.

 

 

“Are you scared, sheriff?” Burke asked.

Whitehorse listed off everything that should back up the very clear _‘yes’_ splayed in the silence before that question.

Why aren’t _you_ scared?

 

Joseph Seed is a man not to be trifled with.  
And yet… here we are.

 

The question wasn’t towards me, not even a glance in my direction.

Regardless, the question made a cold feeling run through my arms, a shiver of fear, perhaps.

 

 

Get in, get out.

That’s the plan.

Sometimes it’s best to leave well enough alone, though.  
Whitehorse was right, I believe.

 

 

_Amazing grace, how sweet the sound…_

 

… And hell followed with him.

 

Presented arms of surrender that almost resembled a welcoming embrace.  
Eyes that one could drown in despite being shielded behind vivid yellow lenses.

 

Soft spoken words that bring a crushing sense of unease, _“God won’t let you take me.”_

 

I feel like I should believe him.

 

The only thing that pulled me to put the cuffs on him was Burke’s firm order repeated when I hesitated a moment too long.

Sometimes it’s best to walk away.

 

 

Angry shouts, the people terrified of their leader; their Father, being apprehended and taken far far away from this place.

 

_Amazing grace, how sweet the sound._

Things get out of hand.

_That saved a wretch like me._

Nothing is keeping us sane when we go down, followers desperate to save their Father.  
Desperate enough to die for him.

_I once was lost, but now am found._

The world is spinning purely in madness.

Brace for impact.

_T’was blind…_

 

_But now I see._

Now _I_ see we were never welcome here.

 

The world is overturned and aflame when my eyes open.

 

Nancy’s panic for an answer brings me closer to coherency.

 

_Amazing grace…_  
My head turns to the distant echo of a voice. The one that stayed calm among chaos.  
It doesn’t matter, not right now.

 

The others are unconscious. Hands flailing weakly, I struggle to reach the dangling headset, desperate.

The voice draws closer when my hand catches the headset, bringing it closer-

 

A grip around my wrist is pushing away the window to call for help.

 

I can’t help the soft gasp that slips from me when I look and see that it’s Joseph.

 

I can’t look away.

 

“ _That saved…_ ”

 

Nancy becomes more frantic.

 

“ _A wretch…_ ”

 

Why can’t I move?

 

“ _Like me._ ”

 

The headset slips from my grasp as he does the same.  
Our eyes still locked, my mind captivated. _Drowning._

 

“I told you that God wouldn’t let you take me.”

 

I believe you.

 

His piercing stare is unwavering when he tells dispatch that everything is fine. No need to call anyone.

_Yes, Father. Praise be to you._

The headset swings far away.

 

He leans in just slightly. Enough for me to _breathe_ his voice.

“No one is coming to save you.”

I believe you.

 

 

By the time my head finally comes back together, it dawns on me that Nancy probably wouldn’t have done a thing if I were the one who answered her.

The others are beginning to come to as I watch the cultists gather around their Father, illuminated by destruction.

 

We shouldn’t have come here.

_Begin The Reaping._

I look to the cockpit and see only the end of Pratt, legs kicking and struggling as he’s dragged out the shattered window. 

They’re swarming on the right specifically.

Hudson is falling with a pained scream from her seat immediately after and they’re on her. Instinctively I grab one of her legs, desperately trying to keep them from taking her.

 

It doesn’t work, she slides right out of my reach and I’m panicking- _God,_ I’m panicking. We’re all panicking.  
This is _terrifying._

 

Burke is fighting his seat belt still when I look to see if he’s been taken right from under my nose. I can see the sheriff being dragged through the dirt in front of the helicopter, he’s clawing at the ground, they have him by the leg- It’s just me and the marshal.

 

The Peggies begin to come back for us, one of them on the verge of stepping into the interior when the flames rise up like the jaws of an animal, encasing prey.

 

“Let them burn,” I hear distantly, the men backing off, “This is God’s will. This is their punishment.”

 

Burke comes loose and escapes out the side that isn’t barred with flames, scurrying into the woods.

 

 

I debate just staying there for a moment, letting the flames eat me alive. Not eager to see what awaits me lest I do get out and outrun the Peggies.

 

Can’t do that though.

 

The belt comes loose and I’m stumbling and just _running._ Straight forward into the woods.

I hear one of them announce I’m getting away, I will myself to run faster.

Bullets fly past, hitting the ground and the trees I push myself through.

 

They lose me after a bit, but they’re lurking all around - voices almost sneering when they say, _“You can’t hide!”_ \- I believe I can’t get out.

 

I’m basically part of the ground with how low I stay, immediately turning direction when I see movement of any sort.

Which basically makes me jump when my radio crackles and Burke is there- He’s _safe,_ thank god.

He says to anyone who can hear him - anybody alive - meet him at a far off trailer.

 

 

I make it to the trailer, silently taking out some Peggies along the way and gaining myself a handgun off of one, something that’ll keep me safe. I hope.

Burke is there, he tried to kill me but that’s understandable, he’s still full of unending determination to take down the Seed family as soon as he lays eyes on a picture frame of the whole lot.

Admirable, I suppose. _Although_. I don’t think that’s a good idea. Especially now after we’ve seen what they’re capable of. The lingering vision of watching the others getting dragged off and yelling for their lives sits heavy in my mind.

 

“We’re gonna get outta this, Rookie.”

He hands me a rifle. Arm ourselves.

 

Loading his handgun he’s laying out the plan. His hand is on my shoulder, follow the road, head southeast.

Peggies begin to draw in, he doesn’t finish the whole plan but I get the gist.

 

 

The anxiety that still flows in my nerves makes my aim questionable but it’s tolerable enough to give Burke time to get the car’s engine to turn over.

And then we’re off, crashing through a fence and taking out cultists attempting to give chase.

I can breathe at least when they’re gone, for a little. Burke’s talking again.

_Fuckin’ Nancy._

 

Roadblocks, trucks, they’re everywhere. With the confidence the marshal gave off earlier, I saw a way out.

The flares on the ground and never ending waves of Peggies chasing and shooting at us makes me doubt it again.

 

“Is that a fucking plane!?” Burke yells as I’m reloading the rifle.

I spare a look upwards- yes, they do indeed have air support. The sheriff did say they were pretty goddamn militant.

I’m an _okay_ shot, I can fight off the ground offenders, but not a plane in a moving truck with only a rifle and a handgun.

He keeps driving and I keep shooting.

 

The plane drops a bomb onto the bridge right in our path, the armored car in front of us exploding on impact, Burke somehow avoids it but then we’re falling, falling-

 

Suffocating.

 

I see Burke swimming to the surface.

 

It all feels hazy.

 

Drowning.

 

I escape the truck and fight to get to the surface.

 

 

I opened my eyes again to find myself ashore. The moonlight illuminating the water, the ground. There’s people searching with lights on the bridge.

 

Distantly, I hear Burke’s voice, he’s been found. He’s being taken away.

Needs a little Faith. Do they mean…?

 

They’re all gone.

 

What gets my attention is an order to check the shoreline.

 

The lights appear to slowly drift closer. I feel paralyzed while all my senses are screaming to run.

We didn’t get this far only for none of us to get out.

 

Gritting my teeth, I try to anchor myself on my elbows. Unfocused gaze looking for a place to run.

I see what looks to be a really small building, don’t get what that is one bit, in daylight it’s probably something obvious. It looks like a road comes towards my location, passing by that same building. That’s not good. Looking forward, there’s more trees. If I run through those and just keep going and lie low, maybe I can worm away one last time and that’s enough.

There is a slight mental debate of straight up surrendering and giving in.  
At this point, I might as well be dead. The others as well. What’s the use in running when it seems like they control all of Hope County? I don’t even know where the hell I am to begin with.

 

I exhale, pushing away the thoughts.  
No. I have to try.

 

I dig my gloved fingers into the mud, dragging myself out of the shallow water.

The lights are coming closer. The screeching of tires in dirt and roaring of engines.

I continue to drag myself into the grass, lying low.

Flickers of light begin to appear brighter, the voices of the cultists echoing in and out, it makes me anxious.

 

Keep going, keep going, keep going.

 

They’re still barking orders, check everywhere, keep searching, for it’s the will of The Father.

The Father. Joseph.

_No one is coming to save you._

The quote alone makes me want to run at the Peggies and beg for them to shoot me.

 

Again, not going to do that, it’s an option though.

 

I drag myself onto the edge of the dirt path, peering to my right and seeing the trucks pointed in my direction, bright lights and all.

It blinds me enough that I sink back into the safety of the grass. Listening.

Water sloshing around, the squelch of wet boots.

 

The sobering realization of the steps coming towards me. Rays of light going along the road and across into the rest of the woods. Prickling fear when the light swipes dangerously near me.

 

They’ll recognize the uniform without a doubt, I can’t play dead, they just might drag my corpse back to Joseph’s church and gut me there for all to see.

They have lights, they’ll _see_ me-

 

I can’t have that, I can’t.

 

Before I realize it, I’m scrabbling to my feet and dashing along the dirt path without a glance behind me.

 

“There he is!” one of them shouts, probably the guy that was basically about to step on me if I stayed.

I see lights immediately trying to focus on me.

Instantly, the regret of not waiting it out hits me, the muscles in my legs burning and emphasizing it. Though, I’m sure they would have found me anyways. I just have to buy time, waste _their_ time, something- Anything. I'm not sure anymore.

 

I’m already slowing down somewhat, gasping for breath, exhausted, frustrated, and all around lost. The lights are following me still.

A chain fence comes clear and I follow the edge around it, I can’t focus on what it’s protecting. Don’t stop.

 

The voices get louder.

 

I’m running on a dirt path at one point, staying on it absently. Don’t stop.

The ground is beginning to take a small dive, the path leading into a dip of shallow water. Don’t stop.

 

The lights are getting brighter.

 

Why aren't they shooting at me?

 

Across the water, I keep going only to become aware of the trees thinning out, the path is split.

Just don’t stop.

 

The path begins to curve.

I realize a fatal mistake.

The split from the path was a circle. There’s no more land past this, it’s more water and I physically can’t handle anymore.

_“We got him now!”_

 

I’m being cornered, stopping and turning around when I see the lights shining around the rocks from the split path, fully just stuck and backing up when they start to pour through both sides of the path, gun barrels pointing at me. Too many to fight, especially like this.

“Nowhere left to run, boy,” one of them says.

 

Man, there really isn’t.

 

It’s just that sinking feeling of defeat that finally tugs the adrenaline out of my grasp and tosses it somewhere I'll never get to. Not anymore.

 

The exhaustion sweeps me off my feet. Literally.

 

I sink to my hands and knees, head hanging while I regain my breath after all that. They’re silent, surprisingly, but they still crowd around me and begin to do what they didn’t get to do earlier.

I’m not exactly dragged, carried by two of the Peggies back through where I ran.

 

Pretty sure I blacked out, awakening in the back of one of the truck beds, the night sky rotating with the turns until my eyes close again.

 

 

_My children, we must give thanks to God. The day I have prophesied to you has arrived._

 

 

The truck stops, I can only blink blearily for a moment, falling back into the dark.

 

_Everything that I’ve told you has come true._

 

The world sways in view. I think the world’s on fire.

 

_The authorities who tried to take me from you are now in the loving embrace of my Family._

 

Wood creaks under weight. It’s chillingly familiar.

 

_All of them._

 

 

Rough yet gentle fingers slide across my face for a moment, eyes slipping open…

“Are you willing, my son?”

 

I can’t answer, swaying from the touch into muted darkness again.

 

“Don’t be afraid…”

 

The touch disappears.

 

“You will see our purpose soon enough.”

 

 


	2. If you could see like me you'd see it's by my grace you're breathing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A maggot will always seek to feed from the grave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> while you planned the raid on Area 51 i studied the word of the Lord.
> 
> good meme. anyway.. I am Dedicated to this story now. I've outlined the next few chapters, I just need to piece it all up now. might take a bit but hopefully not a whole gotdamn month like this chapter almost did fsdfghkjlk  
> but!! i hope you enjoy this,,, very wordy chapter, because as it turns out my Dep thinks too hard and i like describin shit.
> 
> also, added stockholm syndrome in the tags bc... I can't lie about what this actually is ykno... it gets in deep. that an my dep is a lil sick. so please! please, watch out. because it only gets worse from here.  
> and again... not beta'd, but if you catch any mistakes, please tell me :'|

 

 

Snow... Or is it ashes to replicate what Joseph preached loudly of; The Collapse?

 

The particles fly and pop in my vision when I blink.

 

Heaven maybe? That’d be nice.

 

It looks like a storm is overhead. I’m outside…?

 

Whether it is or isn’t, something calm and warm is settled over my brain. Like a wool blanket I used to hide in when the chill in my home was too much. Safe. With an inhale there’s a sweet taste in my mouth. It draws me deeper into the soothing lull of a voice speaking, clearing the mist when I slowly become more aware of the presence.

My head is turning, slightly pressured by someone’s hand, to the side. His lips are moving but the words only just begun to make sense.

 

“-you believe?”

 

 _Believe? Believe what?_ I question innocently in my mind though I feel the meaning try to claw and wearily force its way to the forefront of the haze.

 

False green eyes, yellow lenses tainting the blue behind, stare into my soul.

 

I want to ask him to repeat the question, but I can’t move nonetheless make my mouth form words that don’t sound like I’m choking.

 

Apparently, I still attempt to speak, gasping for air instead – hyperventilating, maybe - and he’s shushing me. Voice grounding all the while still retaining something… dangerous.

Something that is a warning. Or I’m imagining it.

Despite the looming dark in his presence, I nuzzle into the hand that’s still on my face.

 

“It’s okay to be lost, my Child,” he says, unaware that I didn’t understand him or ignoring it altogether.

 

He’s leaning further into my space, focus unwavering.

“You're act of righteousness… was it worth it?"

 

 _No,_ I wanna say immediately. The word is lodged in my throat as every word is no matter what I do.

 

Instead one of my hands are reaching to hang onto his wrist loosely, what I meant by it confuses me.

 

I worry he'll take my silence as refusing to see the error of my ways, but he instead smiles. An action as soft as the touch on my face.

His smile may be what makes me see the appeal of the Project.  
I don't dwell on the fluttery feeling in my guts at the same moment, focusing purely on what else Joseph has to say.

 

"Even with your silence, I feel your penance. The gates will be open to you so long as you're aware of your misjudgment, your _sins._ "

His hand slides under my jaw.

 

"Worthy."

 

I blink slowly at him, brain rifling through what I know about Joseph Seed and if I should trust him. A cult leader. Who's fairly kind and caring.  
Mind comes up blank in all ways of a conclusion and morals.

 

Both his hands are on my face when the lack of a response is apparent still, he leans in and touches his forehead to mine.

 

I inhale and the air tastes metallic this time around. My fingers are around his wrists again.

 

I can't tell if I'm terrified or euphoric, eyes falling closed when we stay like that for a moment longer.

 

“I can save you…” He whispers, I feel him move back.  
His hands slip away, easily being free of my weak grip.

 

“But you need to have faith.”

 

My eyes open to watch him get further, I feel and see my hands try to chase him with no luck. He turns away and kneels after a small couple of steps and his hands are clasped together. He bows his head and I recognize the motion as an act of prayer.

 

Looking back up to the unearthly clouds above the roofless structure, I wonder if we’ll be caught in the looming storm.

I guess I won’t worry about it, if Joseph isn’t.

 

I click my tongue in my mouth, tasting the sweet air again.

 

Something is wrong about this.

 

 

I must have dosed… It’s dark. The air is still sweet, when I look around the stars twist and swirl in the corner of my eyes.

The dim lighting reminds me of fire. Candles maybe.

Turning my head to the side, I see a pulpit.

 

Someone is on their knees before it.

 

Instantly I feel my nerves go cold. I suck in a panicked breath, sitting up on the wooden pew as fast as I can with limbs that are chilled and made of lead. Whatever is in the air, it makes me dizzy and I nearly cough with the cloying scent in the room.

My hand clutches the back of the pew and I steady myself, staring at the still figure who straightened when I nearly had a heart attack.

 

I know who it is, I swear.

 

The tattooed symbol in the dim lighting, the raised scars of **_GLUTTONY, PRIDE, ENVY_** into flesh, I just might scream.

 

Nothing happens.

 

Aside from Joseph Seed rising to stand of course. Just watching the movement has me somewhat cowering and debating on laying down again to restlessly attempt to sleep.  
Anything to escape… _This._

 

He turns and everything in me tenses. He's watching.

 

Feels like the world is holding its breath. Or that’s just me.

 

“My Child,” he starts, the gentle tone of his voice almost too loud in the crushing silence.

His stance shifts towards me, “Haunted dreams?”

 

 _Haunted reality,_ I wanna say, instead I’m exhaling against the sweet scent with a slack jaw.

 

The look in his face almost seems to become softer for a moment.

Regardless, he comes closer and I flinch when his hands reach out to my shoulders - static cutting off bloodied thumbs from eye sockets flickers in my mind - lying me back down on the wood, slowly, gently. I hiss softly at the twinge of pain in my collar bone. From what, I’m unsure. Either way, I don’t fight him, there’s no reason to.

 

“It’s best to not strain your injuries.”

 

I realize he’s referring to a wound on my arm, fingers brushing against gauze cautiously. There must be more. Did he wrap it himself? The other cultists don’t seem… medically educated. But then again if they’re competent enough to pilot jets and shoot guns with a decent enough aim, I shouldn’t put it that far off of their abilities.

 

“As The Collapse is upon us, we need ones who are willing to contribute their strength,” He continues, breaking me out of my spiraling thought, straightening to tower over me.

“I pray you understand,” his head lowers.

 

Subconsciously, I shake my head just slightly.

 

A different look is in his face at the action. Disappointment. “Though many are corrupt, arrogant, distrusting, it doesn’t make them any less deserving of being born anew. To have salvation from the end of a world lead by greed and fear.”

 

He gets on one knee, languid, leveling himself while I follow his piercing gaze.

“Even you.”

 

Fingers are curling around my wrist, leading close to his chest as both of his hands clasp around me with a gentle yet steel force.

 

“The lamb.”

 

His grip tightens.

 

“Horns poised with eyes that foreshadow the end.”

 

His eyes trail down, then back to my face, searching.

 

“That’s if you choose to embrace the gift given to you.”

_Gift…?_

 

“You will not be abandoned, although I will not intercede if you really believe your choices are just. I will not force someone who refuses to listen to follow us, they’ll be wiped out in the end anyhow.” 

My breathing is almost nonexistent.

 

A sharp inhale, a memory, “But as the Voice told me… You’re the prelude to all that will happen.” Absent fingers trace over my pulse.

“When you arrived here, I gave you the choice to walk away. You’ve bared your teeth at us in return.”

 

The same look, “I ask again. Was it worth it?"

_No._

 

"If you see the error of your ways, I implore you to join us now. You will be spared from the wrath of Him along with your friends. I judge not your past nor your being. What matters is if you’re willing to follow us into the light and serve a higher calling. Into a better world away from this, as a pure, righteous soul.”

 

His eyes slip closed.

 

“But always remember,” his head sways back as if invisible hands are running along his face.

 

His eyes open.

 

“God is watching.”

 

Perfectly still against my hand, he makes no other sound. Waiting, I think. 

 

The silence stretches and begins to choke me. I fear I might start screaming for real.  
I don’t know what to do. What to say.  
What do I do.

I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know.

 

The specks of light glimmer around him and begin to go out of focus.

 

“Okay,” I say simply, surprising myself with my own voice, scratched and quiet from minimal use and additional abuse. Not only that, what I said exactly sets in immediately after but I can’t take it back now.

 

My wrist is brought back to me not a moment later, he lays it on my abdomen over my other hand.

 

“My Son,” he murmurs, a faint smile on his lips as his eyes settle on my own again. “We welcome you.”

 

I feel my mouth shake. I hope I’m smiling. Why did he accept such a weak answer.

 

“You will be cleansed soon. Shedding who you were in the past to be who you are now. We will help you along the way.”

 

My vision blurs.

 

“Shh…” Feather light fingers are on my face. “You’re safe now.”

 

I nuzzle into his touch against my despair, an attempt to find solace in the decision I made.

 

I hope you’re right.

 

 

There wasn’t anymore tears after that small break earlier. I’ll grieve later.

 

The church is always dark I come to find out. The windows are boarded up. The starburst symbol above the pulpit isn’t lit, sitting on the wall as mere decor now.

 

Joseph leaves me alone after small soothing words when I lost it for that span of time.

 

I only watch him stand and see the light of the sun slide into the middle of the room and then it’s gone.

I lie there staring at the pulpit surrounded by small lit candles. On the floor is a white book resembling that of a bible. It has a golden etch of the same symbol on it.

I look back up at the ceiling.

 

My breathing is shaky.

 

Joseph stays gone for awhile.

 

 

I eventually fall asleep again - naps are nice - waking up instantly when something jabs into my wounded shoulder, a wordless demand to get up.

 

Sitting up with faster speed than last time, I do the same thing and grab the back of the pew for support.

 

Then, you know. I remember where I am, haha. Because that's my favorite thing. Obviously.

 

It drains me for a second and I sit there to instead look at who woke me, blinking away the remnants of sleep.

It’s one of the followers. One of the ones that look like they know exactly what they’re doing at every given moment. Think the long black jacket is what gives him a more superior appearance. And the rifle. That I try not to eye up in feral desperation for an opening.

 

Sleep delirious, he vaguely looks like Pratt though… If he let his hair grow just a tad longer and streaked it in red and didn't shave for a couple months. Pratt would probably kill me if he heard me do that comparison.  
I feel myself drain further at the memory of Pratt's cries to be let go and the others...

 

Well… It's happened. That's all.

 

We're 'spared' from the end that Joseph talked about, but not from… _this._

Although I wonder if the others will be put down if they refuse to comply.

 

Morbidly, I hope so. It's better that way.

 

The man bending to get in my view, snapping his fingers pulls me out of my thoughts. As it turns out he was talking and I caught none of his words and was staring through his stomach.

"The Father tasked me with sorting you, I need you to come with me for a little bit," he repeats patiently, voice reedier than I was expecting.

_Sorting?_

 

“He told me you’re recovering, so don’t worry about anything too hard.” He pauses and stands straight, eyes flickering over me to narrow ever so slightly. “Yet.”

 

Ah, I do love threats.

 

The way he speaks removes me from the questionable projection of him as a form of Pratt when he's clearly _not_. Really lost my mind already, huh.

Me and Pratt weren't even that close, just coworkers where one liked to poke at the other from time to time. I'm just grasping for familiarity I guess.

 

I nod mutely, confirming I heard him.

 

 _Shockingly,_ my legs still ache when I stand, stretching for a second as the man steps back, waiting.

He points to the doors with his gun when I look at him, understanding that he wants me to go first.

 

Opening one of the doors, I expect daylight like earlier, instead the sky is that light purple of dusk. Makes it easier on my eyes at least. I never could stand bright lighting.

 

I stand there in the door frame for a moment, vision lined with white stars sweeping what I could see.

To sum it up, definitely no out. There may not be as many followers around as the first time I got here, but most look like the man behind me, serious and intimidating. All armed.  
I've said this numerous times in my head, I'm dead. Just in case I forget and catch any false hope.

 

A light jab behind my shoulder presses me forward. "Don't get cold feet now, _buddy,_ " the man says. I can _feel_ the sneer in his tone.

 

_What's the matter, probie? Nervous?_

 

I take a deep breath and step out of the church, being lead now by that man to wherever I need to go.

We walk in silence, slow. No sudden movements. Gives me time to observe.

 

Almost every member has a red symbol on their forehead. I wonder if it’s a tattoo or paint. The sparkles begin to disappear.

The ones with skin revealed, like one man who is spilling green mist from his hair and shirtless, all have those words in their skin…

 

_Sloth, lust..._

 

A woman with almost purely white eyes walks past with a pointed look at me. She spills green mist from her person as well as that man. Her face is covered with the same symbol in red paint.

 

Or blood.

 

Her arms speak of wrath and greed framed in floral patterns.

 

I spare a look at the guy leading me. He is clothed heavily in that long jacket adorned with bullets like others here, showing no skin save for his hands.

While we arrive at a long white table, I speculate on what kind of markings he would have. Something to think about.

 

Some of the less… equipped followers are sitting at the table. They only spare a void look and then they’re back to their own business, quiet.

There’s wooden baskets set near them, full of white flowers.

The woozy feeling and stars are reappearing when the man tells me to sit down. I wonder if I have a concussion or something, that doesn’t seem normal.

 

Would it be bad to wish for it to kill me? Sure, this isn’t as bad as I thought right _now_ , but if that man was serious - which I don’t doubt he was - things are going to get… worse.  
As usual, I don’t know.

 

Fingers snapping in front of my face have my attention once more. Because I’m physically and mentally not allowed to leave this place for longer than 3 minutes.

I missed what he said.

 

“Listen pal, I’m trying to work with you here. I can’t do that if you keep spacin’ out like this,” my escort says, bent on my level _again_ to get in my field of view. I wish I knew his name or something. Doesn’t really matter, but still.

 

From the bottom of my heart, I wanna remind him I’m recovering and say it in the way a parent would to a child.  
I’m bitter.

… And I’m also an exhausted coward of a man. Therefore I stay silent and focus on him.

 

Well, it’s not like it’d be that large of an excuse to say I’m having trouble under the circumstances. Who _wouldn’t_ be retreating into their head a lot after being forced to accept something that is most likely going to have control over their life forever.

However, it _is_ rude to ignore someone who’s been lenient thus far with a man who keeps getting lost in his head and having mini breakdowns every second.

 

As in, I nearly didn’t catch him repeating instructions.

 

10 flowers for every wreath, hold them together with twine. Trim uneven stems, remove leaves, doesn’t matter where the remains go, just make sure the petals are in good shape. Put wilting flowers back into the basket, they have different uses for those.  
Simple enough.

 

He brings me a basket of flowers like the others, roll of string, and flimsy scissors.

I get the mistrust, the others have almost new blades. Mine are rusted and take two hands to wield for the first cut, nearly breaking the damn thing when it opens. It hurts my hands, so I keep my gloves on.

Either way, after the first couple bouquets are completed, I feel… better. Kind of. Calmer at least.

 

I’m evening the stems on this last bouquet some time later when someone is jostling me by the shoulder. Somehow, I don’t jump or flinch by the action, instead turning my head almost drunkenly to look at the source.

Same guy, doppelganger Pratt is standing over me. “I’m starting to think you’re ignoring me on purpose,” he says, were I not so out of my head I’d fear he’s annoyed with me, until he gives me a sly smirk. Which honestly, it gut punches me more instead of the crushing terror of being a nuisance.

I almost want to demand him to keep alienating me, _don't ever act human like that to me._  
I might lose it.

 

 _Cat got your tongue?_ Pratt liked to say with the same smirk whenever I locked up around him, the anxiety of general human interaction gripping me tightly every time.

 

Although, I never actively ignored Pratt or… anybody really, I do listen.

Just not right now.

 

“The Father asked to see you,” he says, expression back to neutral.

 

I examine the bouquet in my hands, satisfied with the work, and lay it next to the others.

 

Not Pratt escorts me back to the church while my head slowly begins to reach solid ground, stars fading. It’s dark like the first night I walked this path behind the others. Followers spitting words of hostility at us, squashing our authority like a mere fly.

 

I kind of want to be back with the flowers, I think those were the source of calm for me. Not sure why, I wasn’t keen to plants before this job or anything. Must be the delicate nature of composing a simple bouquet. I could see myself continuing with mindlessly doing that until days end.  
Whatever keeps me far away from my thoughts and reality at this point.

 

There’s a small gathering of followers before the church, the closer we get, Joseph’s voice begins to become clear.

 

“ _-that were not our families in a world that was not our world,_ ” he is saying with a raised voice, warming all the while still giving off a fierce determination.

 

We come closer and some of the gathered turn to us, making my nerves go tense. Tenser, I should say.

 

There is no more words and the followers are parting the way to reveal Joseph, back turned to them, his arms are raised to the skies, head upward.

He is holding a white book in one hand, the one with the golden symbol on it.

 

I feel a gentle push forward, the escort. I take the cue and heavy pressure of pure silence to walk through the narrow opening of followers, timidly stopping not that far in front of the others, anxious to get closer.

 

His arms fall to his sides. I stare at his uncovered back, the moon’s shine falling on his body lightly.

_Gluttony._

His head lowers.

_Envy._

 

The smooth, slow turn of his body forces my eyes to focus on his.

 

“ _May that theatre of shadows burn,_ ” he finishes.

 

I hear a faint few ‘ _Amen_ ’s behind me as Joseph closes the space between us, one hand settling on the nape of my neck and he’s pressing our foreheads together.

I try to let it soothe me, eyes shutting upon contact, breathing in the same sweet air.

 

“Do you see?” he whispers, pulling away.

 

I don’t know. Even with an unclear head of dizziness I can’t bring myself to lie with a nod when in reality I’m undecided.

 

I open my eyes to be met with disappointment at my lack of an answer. Not even that small hint of disappointment from earlier, full-on, _‘aw, you’ve really just let me down now’_.

 

Immediately I cast my eyes downwards after seeing his expression, avoiding the creeping feeling that is shrieking, _‘you messed up, you messed up, you messed up, you messed up’_.  
His hand trails onto my shoulder, light enough to only cause a faint ache.

 

“The sin of Pride isn’t rare. Though, you’re more lost than prideful, I believe,” he says, “Being confused… still attached to the past… Denial… that’s normal.”

 

You know, it’d be great if he wasn’t so vague about everything. Joseph already seems like the kind of guy to barely show anger, but I wish he’d just yell at me already. Because I can’t handle… whatever this is.

 

 _'Should take him to Faith,'_ someone murmurs behind me.

 _This one needs a little Faith,_ I hear in my head, the memory of Burke being taken.

 

“No,” Joseph says in response to the comment, “He will stay here with us. Because,” He walks around me, hand sliding down my whole limb until gone completely, voice raising to the crowd, “Like Faith, we helped her. Remember how she pained and was so very lost in the beginning?”

I turn to follow Joseph, catching some of the followers nodding solemnly, as if the memory is an open wound.

“How many times she almost fell short of the light? The path to the Gates of Eden is a tough one to follow, trust me, I know. But she held _strong,_ ” he emphasizes the last word, clenching his fist close to his chest, “because of her loving family. Because _we_ had faith in her. Now we see the fruits of her labor, her burning, unmatched _devotion._ ”

 

“And we will do the same for this wandering soul as we have for all you children in the past.”

 

He turns to me again.

 

“ _Who will bring any charge against those whom God has chosen? It is God who justifies,_ ” he says in a way like he’s reading a line from somewhere. I assume he is. He has a verse on his waist; _John 1:9_. If this is a verse, I wonder which one it is, as I’m not very religious myself. My mother was, I only vaguely understood Christianity as a religion. I think she said I’m Catholic.

He holds out the book in his hand to one of the followers, they take it from him like you would something fragile and precious.

 

Again, both his hands are raising to me, resting on my arms, false green eyes still glimmering brightly in the night.

 

“ _Who then is the one who condemns?_ ” he whispers, like it’s a secret between me and him.

 

He shakes his head with a slight smile, akin to someone who is softly amused by something.

 

“ _No one._ ”

…

 

Joseph has no more to say after that, telling the followers to consume and rest, for they have to be ready.  
The Reaping, is what he is referring to.

 

I find out the man who escorted me is named Tobias when Joseph blessed him for his hand before he was sent away.

 

Joseph leads me to what I believe is… his home...? It’s among the small wooden houses in the compound with Latin words hanging on them, some of the followers are sitting outside them and leaning on the walls holding bowls or canteens, quietly bowing their heads or praising The Father as we pass. The tiny house we arrive at is nameless.

 

He brings me in and it’s… fairly homely regardless of the tiny space. The wooden frames of photos on a shelf confirm my suspicion of this being his living space, pictures of his siblings posing for _that_ family photo.

 

 _We’re putting this whole family away,_ Burke says in my head. _All of 'em._

 

Joseph strides to the small divide of the kitchen. I observe the photos. There’s a grainy colorless one of a young man in a military uniform, another of John and Jacob leaning against a car smiling at one another, a green colored one of a girl sitting in a field of those white flowers, a warm smile on her face. Faith.

The last is one of Joseph sitting outside under trees, glasses off while his eyes are shut. He looks at peace.

 

 _Fucking lunatics!_ Burke snarls, a reminder.

 

The sooner I stop humanizing them, the better.

 

I stop looking at the pictures and instead watch Joseph.

He is spilling something into a metal bowl - it looks blue - and then he’s shaking the bowl as one would shake a salad.

 

I shift on my feet, waiting for an order or something, limbs still sore, yet I don’t move to sit or make myself at home, for I am still nothing but a stranger and… well I’m uncomfortable all the time anyways.  
I was never welcome here, I tell myself.

 

Joseph places a fork into the bowl and is walking back to me, offering it.

I take it without a second thought, staring at the contents.

 

Sliced and roasted potatoes are in there. Bits of meat are mixed in. What was that blue stuff? It wasn’t food coloring, nor did it seem to affect anything physically.

Drugs? _Poison?_

Whatever it was, I don't know what I'd rather it be. Harmless or fatal. Guess I'll find out if I start foaming at the mouth and tear out my fingernails at the floorboards for life.

 

Joseph leads me to the small coffee table in the middle of the room and we sit on the couch quietly. I didn’t notice the bowl on the table until he picks it up, stabbing at his own food.

I take a bite from my helping. Plain. Very plain. But food nonetheless. I’ve been so high on whatever is in the air - or from the disease in my head - I forgot about hunger.

 

We eat in silence.  
I get lost in the stars and the sweet tang of the meat.

 

My mind is brought back down when Joseph removes the empty bowl from my hands, stacking it with his and walks away, small clattering following not long after.

I shakily inhale when he walks past again, sitting across from me in a worn chair.

 

Remember how I said I might scream? I swear, I mean it this time.

 

I don’t know why in particular I’m suddenly on edge. Close to the time in the church, emotions overrun. I have to run. I'm frozen though.

 

“Talk to me,” Joseph calmly says yet it feels like a strong, loud command, bent forward to lean on his knees with his arms, full attention on me.

 

God, dear _God,_ if that’s what you want.

 

“I’m _scared,_ ” I say without a second thought, hearing the words strain and break from a mouth that barely speaks, and then there’s more, spilling, pushing- “I’m scared of you and your people and the things you do.”

He keeps staring, eyes barely moving. More? Do I say more?

 

“I’m not supposed to be here,” I guess I do keep saying more, with a shuddering voice. I’m worried I might start crying like last time. “I was _never_ supposed to come here,” My words are jagged and fitted with rage and sadness.

 

I swallow thickly, sweetness around teeth of a bitter mind, running one of my hands across my face to hide from his kind eyes, “I hate myself for following orders.”

 

He still says nothing and I feel like I’m drowning, clawing to the see the surface of the river I’m being held under.  
He wants more?  
More?

What _more_ can I say?

 

My hands are clutching my head and I cave into myself, gloved fingers itching to tear strands of hair like past times, when I couldn’t handle pressure and had to learn to adapt to it as much as I could.

“I wish I walked away,” I mutter around an almost sob. There’s no tears, but my throat is choked by the very feeling of despair and fading anger, anxiety taking hold from the core again.

 

A hysterical laugh falls from my mouth, broken and high, straightening to look at him and clasp my hands together in mock prayer, “I wish you _killed_ me.”

 

It’s been what? A day? I’ve already lost it, I can’t take it.

I shake my head, like that’ll stop the stars from spinning closer. He says nothing.

 

Please say something.  
God, please say something. 

 

Tell me I’ll be executed, left to rot, I’m no good. I don’t care if it’s slow and painful or fast and painless. Just don’t make me become one of _you._

 

Please.

 

“I said I’d join you,” another strained laugh, “But I can’t,” my hands fan outward, like he’s done before his people. “Because it's all _wrong_.”

 

I swallow again, tongue dry.

“You said the ones who don’t see will burn,” I grit out, a renewed feeling in my guts, the stars blurring behind Joseph Seed’s all seeing gaze.

 

I grip my knees and lean towards his person.

 

“Then; before God, I hope I _fucking_ burn before I join any of you and lose myself to madness.”

 

That’s a _lot_ of confidence for a man who was begging for God to save him not a day ago, praying while he was hunted in the woods like a deer for its meat and pelt, desperate to live and giving up if guaranteeing survival.

I guess it’s that inner feeling I keep trying to ignore to stay in Joseph’s good graces.

 

Confession.

 

Surprising nobody - Because I’m... well, _me._ \- I cower when Joseph stands silently, burning rage and mental resistance shut into a cooler in my mind instantly, rekindling terror slicing straight through my nerves like butter.

 

I wished for death.  
I didn’t mean it, I _swear_.

Don’t let me die, _please_.

I’ll join you, you have to _believe_ me.

I shouldn’t have lied to you, I’m _sorry_.

 

But after all I said, my vocal cords are cut once again. My confessions sealed.

 

Joseph walks around the table quietly, slotting himself between the space of my legs and said table.

 

He towers over me and I hold his careful gaze even though I’m on the verge of shrieking for help to the heavens and clawing through the wooden floors to reach hell itself to make things easier.

 

Those same hands, caring, kind, are running up my shoulders to my neck, wrapping like a snake over prey. And then he’s bending, forcing my head to look up even more, fingers pressing and pressing-  
A particularly hard squeeze from his hands into my throat wavers my already blurry and unfocused vision, fingers blindly grabbing at his wrists, silently pleading.

 

“I was right,” he whispers with finality, nails digging into my flesh. I breathe raggedly against him, still listening.

 

Like a switch, his hands slide from my neck up to my face, soft, eyes narrowing - not in rage, but in the way you’d scrutinize an infected wound.

 

“ _The Lord detests all the proud of heart._ Your honesty is powerful, but _be sure of this; You will not go unpunished,_ ” Joseph says, tone quiet and calm.

 

No...

 

“Pride. The most venomous of them all,” he raises his voice, like he’s condemning a person to the public.

 ** _God_** , no.

 

“You will be free from this sin.”

 

He leans closer, forcing me to arch upward even more.

 

“By my hand, I will make sure of this.”

 

I shakily exhale. His thumb brushes against my eye, collecting the liquid trying to spill over.

 

“I refuse to kill you. That is not God’s will.”

 

My teeth clench together to hold in panicked breathing.

 

“Following us after this will be hard - the path always has been, but if you don’t...”

 

He lets go of me, straightening while my hands fall flat on my sides.

 

“May God have mercy on your soul.”

 

 

 

I blanked out after that. Not _blacked_ out, but my mind decided to take five to mull over what was said to me while staying conscious.

 

Joseph led me back outside, into the night.

 

He is speaking to one of those women with the void eyes and fiery hair, green mist pouring from her as they converse while I stand a mere shadow next to them.

Apparently _something_ was ordered between them because only then am I feeling the force I expected before.

A hard edge smashes me in the nose and then that woman has me by the arm, dragging my unsteady body, her fingers and nails digging painfully into my skin enough to bruise possibly. Ow.

Joseph is nowhere to be seen.

 

I wish I listened to their conversation instead of mourning.

 

My mind catches up enough to realize she’s opening a large cage, the pleas of anguish registering around me, and she shoves me in with no effort that has me stumbling to the ground inside. I hear myself cry out at the impact on still healing wounds.

I lie there, weakly planting my hands into the cold dirt to look back at that woman.

 

“Don’t worry, little man, your _pride_ will keep you warm for the night,” she says roughly, a vicious smile on her dark lips. She strays to the middle of the rest of the cages, beginning to talk like she's preaching, as Joseph was earlier.

 

_You’ll be fine._

 

I curl on the ground, hugging myself to blankly stare through the bars. I channel out the voice of that woman.

 

Other people behind iron. They stare back at me with eyes that are looking for freedom. They also remind me of something dead.  
Maybe they are. 

Maybe we all are.

 

_Shh, you're safe now._

 

Tightening my grip on my arms for security even when it hurts, I try to sleep again, to ignore the despair around me, the loud voice of a woman preaching a message I refuse to understand.

 

I pray I never wake.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dep: can i get one(1) death please.  
> also dep: please dont hurt me i will cry.
> 
> sorry about nothin... crazy happened after all that reading but i hope u enjoyed my whack plot building, this is fairly new to me still haha.  
> But i can assure you, something will happen in the next chapter. Promise :)


	3. Heaven's not far away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let me take you into the light  
> There's no where to hide  
> There's nothing but darkness left here  
> Shake it off and let's take a ride  
> 'Cause Heaven's not far away  
> And I'm not gonna leave you here

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well. well well well. I'll tell you one thing, this didn't take a month like I said, but I really wish i meant id finish this by like idk... august.  
> and haha.... yeah that didnt go according to keikaku ;-;  
> I GUESS my best excuse is.... uhh smut is hard, dude. also real life n shit but MOSTLY i just couldnt make my hands get it together to write the wahoo.  
> but hey,,, i havent given up so hell yeah, im still in it, just took me ten goddamn years.
> 
> anyway!! i uhhh hope you enjoy :')  
> and as always, not beta read so if any mistakes jump at you, lemme kno.

 

 

 

 

My mother used to tell me to pray when I was still only a young boy and I found myself in a terrible situation. She said _He_ would listen and give me strength because God looks out for his children.

No matter what.

 

I can’t say I really believed her.  
Still, I prayed because I _trusted_ her.

 

The very few times I prayed I felt awkward, like I was just talking to nobody at all even when I prayed in my head.

I think it baffled me more when those times I reached out to Him, the situation… seemed to get better.

 

Right now, I don’t think God is gonna bestow me any mercy.

 

My mother always told me she’s praying for me, every time I leave home.

 

I wonder if she is now.

 

The chill of the morning and ache from the hard ground is what wakes me.

Sitting up and clicking my tongue in my mouth, tasting something almost sickly, I stare at iron bars with no real thought for a moment.

It hits and I’m once again devastated by the situation I’m in.

 

 _Instead_ of laying back down and moping, I get up to look for one of those makeshift toilets in the cage because come on… have some decency.

 

There’s a wooden box with a hole in it.

Great.

 

It occurs to me that the sun is barely coming out from behind the mountains. My sleep schedule never has been good, but now I have an excuse I suppose.

 

I wonder if they’ll leave me here to rot like I begged and screamed for last night inside my head.

Peeling off my brittle leather gloves finally, I try to make myself comfortable against the bars and dirt again, idly shaking out the gloves for lack of anything else to do.

 

I’d love to lie and say this morning is at least quiet. It’s not.

There's echoes of gunshots in the distance, the swoosh of planes… crying inside one of the cells… or more, the firm orders and chatter of the cultists lurking and keeping eyes on us here.

 

I’d _love_ to sleep more, but that isn’t happening now.

How long did I even sleep? Wish I had a watch. Or y’know, didn’t have my phone snatched, that would work too.

I’m gonna take a guess and say I slept 4 hours, that sounds about right.

 

Leaning harder - if that’s possible - into the bars, I begin to think about… Joseph.

 

There’s not much to elaborate on that.

 

What else _can_ I think about? My mother I won’t see again? My coworkers that I feel deeply responsible for? The significant other that I don’t have? Death? It’s dramatic but there’s genuinely nothing else.

So… I think about Joseph and what he said, this time not actively panicking from dwelling on it as much.

 

Pride? If I were to judge myself I would say that’s… an interesting sin to put on someone like me; an anxious man who can never use his words unless forced or violently demanded. Same thing really. Maybe I seemed prideful in that moment because of the surge of confidence to speak my mind, but I swear that I’m not that prideful at all. I’m willing to give it all up to make things _easier_ , but I can’t guarantee I'll agree to things Joseph wants me to fully.

Maybe it is pride. I’m not sure.

 

I don’t want to think about what means Joseph will use to _‘free’_ me from this sin.

 

I ponder on what could be happening outside as the sky begins to become orange - the gunshots and whatnot, it sounds like war - until I feel something jab into my shoulder through the bars. As my nature goes, I jump and look back to see that same guy from yesterday.

The one that looks like Pratt. I know his name starts with a T. Tobias if I recall. Probably good to know who he is... I guess.

Although once you learn the name of something, you get attached. Or that’s only for animals.  
I should stop thinking.

 

Thankfully, Tobias graciously is doing the same goddamn thing as yesterday, snapping his fingers through the bars into my face, “Still ignoring us and our word? Don’t worry, I think you’ll see soon.”

What a terrifying thing to say first thing in the morning, I’m having such a great time in Hope County, Montana.

 

Tobias calmly tells me where he will be taking me and other tasks I have to do later. _Thankfully,_ I don’t space out while he’s talking, because I doubt he’s gonna keep tolerating that.

 

Infirmary is first.

 

It’s a slow walk akin to yesterday, no rush, absorbing things.

 

My mistake is when my mind decides to stray further than me, because it takes me a moment to realize we’ve reached the dock by the church, no medical anything as far as I can see.

Yeah… I should’ve expected no more care than what I got yesterday. If I get an infection, then well, guess that’s it.

A hard shove from behind forces me to keep walking to… the water?

 

Another shove, harder this time.

 

To the water it is.

Terrific.

 

It’s about knee level deep when Tobias stops me, my limbs began to tremble from the chill of the water.

“On your knees, sinner,” he says, wading in front of me, expression neutral.

 

…

My gaze flickers over his whole being for a moment without a second thought.

 

“Maybe Pride isn’t your only sin,” he mutters, laying a hand on my shoulder, pressuring me to kneel.

 

I hiss against the chill on the way down. Why did this have to be in the morning when it’s freezing?  
Either way, I do what I have to. I glance up at Tobias with shivering limbs, waiting for another order.

He stares down at me with an almost snide smile.

I’m very close to asking him is this it until he’s suddenly grabbing me by the hair and forcing my head into the river.

 

Panic surges in like the water when I gasp and get a mouthful of it, hands flailing in shock from both fear and the cold.

My fingers catch onto something so I hang on desperately, legs attempting to straighten although Tobias’ hold is unwavering.

 

Basically, I’m drowning for real and having a heart attack.

I don’t know how long I struggle until I’m being forced back up to hack and cough- and then I’m under again.

 

 _Fuck-_ I hate this.

 

I’m seeing stars by the time I’m let back up and fighting to breathe, thankfully aware that Tobias let go.

I’m blinking hard against the swaying vision, slowly coming back to realize that Tobias is speaking. It sounds like he’s yelling actually.  
I don’t know what he’s saying, I just shudder against the cold helplessly and keep my hold on his long jacket, grounding.

He’s shaking me by the shoulder not long after, my eyes open blearily - when did they close? - and I look up at him to see stars still popping in and out around him.

 

“Get up.”

 

I nod shakily and stagger to my feet without much else, still shivering and breathing harshly. My limbs feel too heavy. Waterlogged probably.

 

The stars follow when there’s a fairly competent nurse touching at my wounds and tending to them quietly.

We must have walked, I didn’t realize it. I’m still dripping from the river but I don’t feel as uncomfortable as I should. Only cold.

I guess I wasn’t lied to about going to the infirmary - which is just four people who actually do seem qualified to be medical professionals located near what I assume is a training area - so hey… that’s a little reassuring.

 

The sky is nearly blue when I’m done being treated. I don’t like that my body still feels slow and weird.

 

Tobias leads me to that center bonfire that seems to always stay lit no matter the time of day and hands me a wooden basket.

More flower stuff… that’s nice.

He explains the drying and harvesting process. I don’t blank out.

 

Time passes… Time passes, that’s it. I hang the flowers to the rack and cut off the dry stems and harvest petals. Repeat and keep spacing out.

 

I heard someone saying that I’d make a nice angel while I worked. I don’t know what that means at all, it’s probably not a compliment though.

I keep working.

 

My clothes - sans shoes - are almost dry by the time I’m being stopped by Tobias again.

He leads me around to help carry green containers and stock them into trucks. It’s not that bad, nothing feels sore surprisingly the whole time, so that’s good.

 

When the trucks leave, I’m lead to a different narrow area. It dawns on me that the scared and angry voices of other people are here as well. I’m put into a… another _cell_ with two others. One is laid on the ground and the other is leaned against the chain fencing, distant looking.

I place myself on the bench and… I don’t exactly think, but I sit there, I know that much. Actual thoughts? No.

 

There’s that white book with the gold symbol here, so that’s what I spend my time doing.

The Book of Joseph is what it’s called. Fancy.

 

Those two in the cell get extracted at one point. I don’t know where they’re being taken.

 

Not long after someone else gets put here. She’s horribly sad. She doesn’t try to talk to me. That’s fair.

 

She curls up on one of the sleeping bags and doesn’t move.

Jacob sets the barn on fire.

 

I stop reading by the time Joseph begins to have doubts within the book. Not bored. I feel like I read too much. Joseph feels too human in the book.

 

I place the book aside on the bench and lean back against wood.

That girl still hasn’t moved.

 

I look up through the netting and find myself shocked to see the sky hitting that dusk orange color already. The day couldn’t have gone that fast, right?

My sense of time is falling apart, I don’t know how long I’ve done _anything_ today. It all felt slow and steady but… already? That’s nuts.

I’m not as… off when I was - for lack of a better word - drowned. I can at least think. A little.

 

I pick at a small scab on my wrist.

 

Which reminds me, I haven’t eaten. All I had was that river water hours ago.  
Either I’m gonna be given the bare minimum soon or nothing at all, which is fine I guess, I’ve personally attacked the cultists by trying to do my job so it’s a fair trade.

 

Although, yeah, food and water should be the priority for me personally, I’m also wondering if… you know- was the _thing_ Tobias did this morning my cleansing? You’d think it would be something more… important? Like, something Joseph would do and hold for others to see.

Unless it’s something else and Tobias was being a menace for no reason. At least if it really was it, it’s already over with. But with my luck, it probably wasn’t.

 

I stop picking at the scab when it begins to bleed.

 

The squeal of the cell door opening jolts me from my light sleep not long after, deliriously watching as cultists seemingly pour into the small space to forcefully grab that girl from the ground, only barely registering when they also have their hands on me and nearly drag me out of the cell right behind her.

 

 _What’s happening?_ I just hear various cries of anger and distress mixing together in one incoherent jumble.

 

We’re being led to the main entrance is what I notice.  
White vans are parked there while some are driving off into the night.

 

“My children! You are gathered here tonight to begin the trek to salvation!” Is what I hear over it all, knowing exactly who it is.

 

I turn my head trying to find Joseph amongst the people. I don’t see him anywhere, just people trying to fight the guards and failing.

 

Is Joseph’s voice echoing?

 

“Many of you still resist and refuse to listen and see our cause! We are trying to save you! All of this is for _you!_ ”

I watch as people are being knocked to the ground nearly unconscious while some are being bound at the wrist and getting into the vans calmly.

 

“Tonight is when you shall be _reborn!_ No longer chained to this past world and its laws for they will all soon be undone in the coming Collapse!”

 

Soon I’m in one of the vans with 3 others and bound, unable to hear the rest of Joseph’s speech - I think it’s a speech - and then we’re driving off to who knows where.

Coincidentally, Tobias is in the back with us. Just that extra bit of security I bet.

 

I don’t know if I should be uncomfortable or glad that he’s here, so when he gives me a confusingly fond smile when I glance at him I decide to go with the former. Because fooling myself into feeling safe with one of the cultists is definitely not smart. _Especially_ when he dunked my head in the river earlier.

 

Despite my inner argument, I relax against the wall of the van.

 

It’s a long drive. Or it feels like it at least until one of the other… prisoners ask me where we’re going and what’s going to happen to us. I wish I had an answer, all I can do is shrug and feel bad watching the fear built in that person’s eyes. I took this job to protect and help people, but damn if I don’t feel useless if I can’t even offer small reassurance to the victims here.

 

Tobias explains that tonight is special in place of my silence. The Cleansing. We will be _‘reborn’_ as Joseph said, purified in blessed water and then we can atone. So basically, a baptism. I know I was baptized when I was a child, mostly because my mom reminded me a lot that holy water is the bane of my existence as a joke when we went to church sometimes. The context is she said I freaked out during my baptism from how cold the water was but instead of being a normal kid, I screamed that I was _burning._ In front of the priest and my family. My uncles laughed their heads off at least, can’t say the same for the horrified religious people there under the pretense that I was a demon or something.

 

Good times, good times...

 

 _Well,_ if the Cleansing is going to be anything like Tobias did earlier today, I can handle it. 

Except Tobias begins to talk about how John will carve our sin into our flesh once we’re clean and tear it off after confession. Because confession without pain _isn’t_ confession. Sounds kind of cruel but Eden’s Gate has already blown itself out of the water with everything that happened in the past two days already in violent acts, kind of hard to be shocked at this point.

I can _maybe_ handle it. Worst comes to worst, the holy water kills my demonic being or I lose a chunk of skin by John and it hurts like a bitch.

 

The other two in the van look terrified hearing this. The silence carries on for the rest of the way, only the faint sound of gunfire for background noise.

 

We’re stopped and let out by a large pool of water. With only the lighting of the moon and lights of the cars, I see fewer people than I remember being put in vans being led into the water. Group at a time sort of thing probably. That’s fair. There’s green containers I recognize sitting on the shoreline.

A thing I’m becoming aware of though; that same dizzying and lightheaded feeling is here. I'm really thinking it's a drug and not a concussion or whatever I thought it was the first time. Wish my brain would think faster.

 

Tobias holsters his rifle and leads me behind the others into the shallow water, similar to this morning.  
I try to ignore the sounds of people fighting and helplessly choking for air during the baptism.

 

Tobias lowers me down more gently this time around, thankfully, I’m also prepared for it so hey, it’s not as bad. Still horribly cold though. Tragically, I didn’t start burning either.

 

On the way down a man began to speak. I can’t hear him that well. The way he speaks takes me back to before we got in the vans to come here, Joseph’s kind of confidence and authority.

 

Coming back up, inhaling the night air kind of feels surreal. The stars seem to come closer.

 

 _“-Only then, may we stand… in the light of God,”_ the man continues while my vision settles.

 

Tobias begins to lead me to the light. Literally, we’re walking towards the car lights and I see a man that immediately gives me a Joseph kind of feeling upon looking at him. He’s standing in the water with us, pressing his thumb into the forehead of the 'cleaned' prisoners.

_“...And walk through His gates…”_

 

The person in front of me is passed, I keep moving towards the man in turn.

 

 _"Unto Eden,”_ he concludes, closing his book upon meeting my gaze. He doesn’t move, staring with that same pressuring intensity.

 

I don’t know what to expect, simply watching the sparkles dancing around his shape and eyes until he finally does the same thing as he did to the others, almost more carefully, slowly.

 

He hands off the bible to another follower as I feel Tobias’ hands leave my side.

 

This is when he carves a sin into my body and rips it off right?  
Why else would I have the tense feeling of being cornered?

 

I scared myself more than I expected, flinching when the man - who might actually be John Seed - put his hands on my shoulders.

 

The reaction seemed to amuse John, an almost mischievous grin stretching onto his face.

 

“Deputy… I see you are amongst our faithful this blessed night. Clean, shaking the fetters of your past and leaving it behind. You may be the harbinger of the end, but as you are here now, it gives us all hope,” his hands travel up to my face as he speaks.

 

Thanks John. Way to make a guy feel special.

My limbs are heavy again but still go tense at his touch, I merely nod in response.

 

He doesn’t seem to mind my discomfort, instead he wraps his arm around my shoulder and begins to lead me out of the water.

 

“However…” he trails off. There it is, the catch of the day. “Atonement cannot be reached without _raw_ confession.”

 

What if I tell him about the Confession Session I had with Joseph last night.  
I don’t think he’d like that.

 

Another nod.

 

He pauses in step just on the shoreline, fingers clenching around my arm, "I hear you have already bared your sins to The Father himself, though.”

My gaze flicks to him, unnerved.

“Which is admirable, actually, I know how painful it is to display what is inside. How… humiliating it can be, knowing you were never perfect in the first place.”

A sigh, “But here.... In Eden’s Gate, we will accept you as is.”

 

He fully steps in front of me, the lights hugging his shape as he grips my shoulders painfully.

“You just have to be willing. Otherwise there is no place for you in Eden.”

 

…

 

He seen _something_ apparently, a frown tugging on the corners of his mouth, he pulls away as his eyes remain locked with mine.

 

“I see it now… **that** is what he meant,” he murmurs, confusing me further.

 

His index finger presses into my chest, eyes narrowing, “That silent kind of defiance, something one could hide as obedience so long as they say nothing. But I can _see_ it.”

He jabs at the same spot in emphasis, making me step back with anxiety, “ ** _Feel_** it.”

 

_“Truly… truly, I say to you...”_

His finger drops away but I still can’t help backing away as he almost stomps into my space, familiar panic creeping in all around when I feel the biting cold of the river surrounding my ankles and climbing higher.

 

 _“Unless one is born again he cannot see the kingdom of God,”_ he grits out.

 

I barely know how to react to the sudden grip on my neck, only registering the fierce look on John’s face before it all distorts and I’m choking on water again.

There’s not much else I can do against that, struggling against my cuffs and failing miserably as his fingers clamp harder.

 

He held me under _way_ longer than Tobias did, lifting me out with a grin and forcing me to stand after. He shushes my violent coughing and haggard breathing.  
I shake my head violently when he tries to put me back under, pleading silently-

 

“Do you mock the cleansing, John?”

 

John freezes, grip instantly going slack, allowing me to breathe at least for a moment.

_Joseph?_

 

We stare at each other for a moment before John straightens up, looking like a kid being caught red-handed.

He steps aside, hands sliding off me.

“No, Joseph.”

 

I might be glad Joseph decided to appear, maybe, I’ve had enough of being held under water.

 

“You have to love them, John. Do not let your sin prevent that.”

John doesn’t move, listening with a downcast expression.

 

Joseph says no more than that, instead walking towards us, stopping just outside of the shoreline.

Only then does John turn to him, an almost somber look on his face.

 

The world sways when I catch Joseph’s gaze. I barely register the light touch on my shoulders until it genuinely pulls me forward as if I was falling backwards.

 

 _“Above all, love each other deeply,”_ Joseph whispers, _“because love covers over a multitude of sins.”_

 

He doesn’t say anything else, leading me silently out of the water as John was before.

 

I swear I hear John trying to say something behind us but it doesn’t register, Joseph leading me to a black jeep and opening the door for me.

Getting in, I blink slowly against the dizzy feeling setting in when the door slams.

 

Whatever else the two are saying to each other, I can’t pay attention any longer.

 

Think I drank some of the water. Tastes like medicine again.

 

At some point Joseph gets in the passenger seat, he says something to the driver.  
The movement of the vehicle feels no different than the spinning in my brain.

 

“You will be safe with us, deputy,” I hear Joseph say clearly after awhile.

I feel myself nod.

 

“Tonight, I will see that the sin rooted in your bones is torn out and laid bare…”

 

My eyes drift from the blurred scenery to the back of his head.

 

“And I will return you to the angel you once were.”

 

He says nothing else after that.

I go back to staring out the window, shivering.

 

I don’t believe you, but I don’t know what to do.

 

There’s less people at the compound I realize when we return.

No… prisoners. At least, as far as I can see and hear.

 

It’s almost quiet.

 

Joseph lets me out and removes my binds, arm around my shoulder and leading me again.

To the church…

 

Three others follow us in.

 

“My brother has a... _different_ method to… atonement,” Joseph says as my delirious anxiety rises at the sound of the doors closing.

 

“You, however, are special,” he bends to pick something up off one of the pews.

 

I can feel my eyes zero in immediately on the hunting knife as he turns around, “Behold…”

 

He walks closer, my instincts drawing me backwards into the arms of the followers, their hands forcing me to the ground on my back so fast that it confuses me.  
Joseph straddles my waist as they hold me down, my limbs incapable of fighting anything at the moment yet still trying, terrified.

 

I instantly stop when his touch brushes on my chest, though the followers don’t loosen their hold one bit.

 

The knife is laid aside for a moment, his hands come up to delicately unbutton my uniform just enough to access my chest. I stay still.

 

My breathing sounds so _loud_ against the silence as I stare up at Joseph, illuminated by the light on the wall. I have no idea what to do. Nothing?

Nothing.

 

I don’t realize he’s done until I feel the cold steel brushing against my throat, heart in my ears now.

 

“... For I will be merciful to your iniquities...”

 

His calm tone doesn’t prepare for the slow but horrifically painful drag of the knife into my chest.

 

I writhe, hear myself nearly yell, legs weakly kicking at nothing.

 

Joseph keeps a steady hand against the movement, the next slice short but still just as painful.

 

My eyes refuse to close and look at the work being done, staring up at the dizzying faces of the cultists instead and then Joseph’s by the fourth cut. Everything blurs for a moment as I begin to wonder what I’ve done to deserve this.

I was just doing my _job._

 

“... And I will remember your sins no more.”

 

My voice doesn’t last long after the first couple cuts, mellowing into aggravated growls and gasps at a point. Thankfully, it ends way sooner than I expected.

 

“New,” Joseph remarks as the followers release me, but I stay on the ground, drained and trying my best to ignore the throbbing in my chest.

 

I finally lift myself to look at what exactly Joseph did as he stands.

 

My stomach churns when I realize it’s a word he carved. I remember what Tobias said in the van so long ago.

 

The word Pride is there in all its glory.

 

I look back up at Joseph as he’s sheathing the knife and placing it on the pulpit.

My body goes limp in pure relief as he does, laying back on the floor with a weary sigh. I remember Tobias said John carves the sin and then tears it off, Joseph doesn’t seem to follow that last part and I couldn’t be more glad.

I’ll take a painful scarred word over losing a whole slab of skin, thanks.

 

However I don’t know what to make of Joseph coming back into view and kneeling beside me, the sound of the doors opening and slamming as he comes closer.

 

My head turns towards him right as his fingers run through my hair so gently, simultaneously relaxing me and making a chill climb up my spine.

 

He does the same thing a couple more times until my exhaustion decides to seep in and relax me fully, the soft action… bringing me peace just for a moment despite the circumstances.  
Or it could be blood loss. I'm not sure to be fairly honest.

 

He strokes one more time before he coaxes me to sit up.

I’m fully about to stand up against my tired will when his hands grab at my face, stopping me.

 

“The look in your eyes,” he mutters, thumbs rubbing absently against my cheeks, “Pride was the surface but I see now that you’re just like all of us.”

 

… _What?_

“An outsider.”

 

My eyes shift away from his.

 

“Look at me.”

 

I do.

 

“You will never be alone, not here. Not with us.”

 

I feel myself nod slightly in his hands, glad he's steadying me.

 

“ _I_ will never abandon you.”

 

I lean into the hold at his words, sucking in a shaky breath.

 

“Because I know what it’s like to be alone.”

 

“... Really?” I hear myself whisper.

 

“Yes,” he says, leaning and pressing his forehead against mine.

 

My eyes close at the touch, inhaling the smell of him. So sweet...

He pulls away and I watch him draw back, sparkles bouncing off his shape softly.

 

“Will you let me lead you?” He asks, gaze patient.

 

I nod, swaying forward.

 

His hands slip lower, warmth seeping into my collarbones, “Will you?”

I nod again with more vigor.

 

Joseph leans in and it takes me a moment to register his lips pressing into mine. He pulls back and slightly shakes me, “I need you to _say_ it,” he whispers.

 

I get out a weak _‘mhm’_ when he kisses me again, more forcefully this time. What’s happening?

 

“Say it.”

 

 _God-_ I can’t if you’re doing this to me.

 

“ _Say_ it,” he pushes, figuratively and literally, my back hitting the floor as his hands pin my wrists down.

I look up and find it harder to say anything at the still patient look in Joseph’s eyes, so I turn away.

 

He says nothing, yet I cringe and hiss at the sudden sting in my chest- because as it turns out, Joseph wants a whole _‘yes’_ from me and will do whatever it takes.  
Including licking at my fresh cuts like an animal.

 

Goddammit.

 

“Yes- _yes,_ lead me,” I say shakily, forcing my voice to raise against the pain.

 

He releases one wrist to grab my face and look at him, “You trust us?”

 

“Yes, I trust you.”

 

“Then from here on,” his voice lowers as does he over me, our breath mingling, “We will sing to a world reborn from suffering.”

 

I don’t get to reflect on his words for the next moment he’s got his mouth on mine again with the same force as earlier.

 

The only way to describe this.... Suffocating. Mentally, at least.

 

He kisses at my jaw softly, moving down to the cuts and lapping at them once again. A whine slips from my throat at the sting, free hand coming up to push him away, only for Joseph to grab and lace our fingers together without missing a beat.

 

 _Fuck-_ Against my better judgement, I find my hand holding desperately onto his, as if that’s gonna keep me from going crazy in this definite dream.

There’s no way this could be happening. No way. The feeling of my guts coiling together are proving me wrong.

 

When I breathe I feel sick, the air is choking me. Cloying.

He pulls back, licking at his lips as the stars glitter behind him in the light. Almost like some sort of holy predator.

 

I try to get up.

“Shh… this is your atonement,” he says, releasing my hand to push me down again.

 

I’m fairly certain I made a noise close to, _‘huh?’_

 

“Not complete… Not yet,” he mumbles, leaning in to drag his teeth against my neck.

I suck in a breath.

 

His touch is so soft… Loving almost. When he moves even lower, I see a storm overhead.

 

I don’t know how to feel when he’s lifting my thighs and pressing closer, a breathy moan following the slow grind against me.

 

Nothing’s been removed, yet it feels like everything is exposed, Joseph can see everything.

He sees it all.

 

Except I feel him unbutton my pants, my breath catching when his hand wraps around me and staying there.

The sensation makes me buck into his grip, groaning desperately.

 

This can’t be happening.

 

He lavishes more kisses on my chest, nuzzling into my flesh as his hand begins to tug and pull at my cock. My voice breaks at the cry forced out of me, nails scratching at the wooden floor.

 

“Yes, that’s it…” Joseph breathes, “Let your sin flow out of you before Him, he loves you…”

 

I open my eyes finally, lifting my head to look down - up maybe, I can’t tell anymore - at him.

 

Our eyes lock as he’s rolling his hips languidly, my body going weak once more as I flop back on the floor with a shaky whine.

“ _God_ loves you,” he grits out, bending me in half to reach my face so he can kiss me again. My hands flail and cling to him and pull him closer like a man dying of thirst. My legs wrap around his waist as well- anything, God- _Anything_ to be closer.

The moment that he finally makes a noise deep in his throat has me digging my nails into his back. _Animalistic._

His voice- _Fuck,_ his voice-

 

His hand never once removed itself from my cock, movement speeding up as he begins to thrust against my rear, ragged groans emanating from him and stealing the air out of my lungs.

 _God-_ All of it, the friction, his warmth..

I swear I’m gone too fast, the coil in my gut coming undone with a broken yell and sending me into the stars above as I spill over his hand and onto my uniform.

 

Coming back down, everything is so dizzying. Not more dizzying than the feeling of Joseph still grinding against me even though my body has gone limp.

I wince and attempt to feebly shove him away, the pleasure now melding into the pain of overstimulation.

 

He releases my now flaccid member and instead grasps at one of my hands to bring it to his mouth and kisses at it frantically, a few last thrusts are all he needs before he reaches his own climax with a guttural groan. 

 

We’re both out of breath, my legs trembling as if all of that was the real deal. I couldn’t imagine if it were.

Joseph finally leans back, hands dragging down my body to rest over my groin questionably.  
I inhale shakily at the feeling- If my atonement requires a second time then well… Maybe that would be okay, but _lord,_ not right now. Let me catch my damn breath first.

 

Propping myself up on my elbows to look at the mess on my body, I come to realize he… finished on my clothing all the same.  
My poor uniform.

Truly, I never expect anything that Joseph does, therefore I gasped when he dragged my lower half so damn close that I nearly bend in half again, his arm wrapping around my stomach to hold me.  
It shocks me further when his tongue darts out and laps at the still fresh semen on my pants, slow, sensual.

 

Physically and mentally, I have no idea how to act anymore, shivering at the light presses helplessly. Maybe I could go again, hell if I know.

 

Joseph idly rubs his palm against my thigh, reinforcing the light rekindling swirl in my stomach even when I look away from watching him run his tongue right between my legs.

Makes a guy so weak, I’ll tell you that much. All the stuff in the air, him, it all comes together and kills me.

 

He’s so close to licking my still exposed member, but he pulls back and lowers me before that ever happens, leaning back in to collect the remaining fluids on my shirt.

 

All of that was unnecessary, but… not unwelcome. I guess...

The fact that he decided to clean me like that, laid me back down, and tucked me back into my pants without anything else after baffled me. Thank God, though. I thought I could maybe handle it, but I doubt it.  
My eyes slipped closed when he rose to his feet afterwards, my limbs too tired to even try to get up. It should be fine to just lay here.

I hear Joseph walking around, the noise echoing until it slowly fades away.

 

Stinging within my chest has me blearily opening my eyes again, registering Tobias hovering over me.

 

He’s talking, bits saying, _“Did good,”_ and, _“lucky”_. I did good? Don’t understand the part about lucky, but thank you…

 

Being dragged and then lifted wakes me, head lolling to the side trying to see what’s happening only to be laid down on a hard surface not that long after.

 

 

The light above the pulpit goes dark.

I look back up at the ceiling.

 

The stars are shaking, but they stay where they are.

 

 

That storm never did hit, did it?

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me? overusing bible verses incorrectly? ur goddamn right.  
> also yghghhhh i tried my best with the Light smut, it still tore me apart bc for some reason I cant write the word 'cock' or 'dick' without shriveling up inside, but i committed so fuck yeah.  
> i legit could have just faded to black but i thought nah...... the few people who still might read this deserve the Best. so here... even if it is low quality dsjkvlmdf
> 
> i cant promise the next chapter will show up quicker but ill try.  
> and regardless, thank u for readin this far and for the kudos, i appreciate it :') <3
> 
> happy nut day btw hahaha


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